


The Kids are Alright

by Suchthingbutnever



Series: Mommy!Verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Family Feels, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Slash, Smut, daddy!Liam, mommy!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchthingbutnever/pseuds/Suchthingbutnever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sneak-peak into the world of domestic bliss with Zayn, his husband Liam, and their three children. All inclusive are: Spots, ruined braces, mashed up banana and annoying neighbors. (Domestic!AU, Mommy!Zayn, Daddy!Liam, Teenage!Louis, Kid!Niall, Baby!Harry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kids are Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This mentions men!preg.

The day starts as a jumbled disaster. 

 

Zayn hurries back and forth between the kitchen, where the water is boiling, and the up-stairs bathroom, where Niall’s reduced to tears because the braces are somehow not sitting right ever since he tried to chew on that stone at the Stevenson’s. 

 

Harry’s gurgling about happily, mashing his unsweetened Bio-broth, not even close to eating any of it – and for God’s sake, his high chair isn’t secured properly. Louis’ already gone off to school, and of course he left his sandwich on the counter. 

 

“Liam!” Zayn cries out in exasperation, Niall’s howling resounding in the background, his cheeks flushed and wet with tears. “One second?” 

Liam’s straightening his tie, frown on his forehead: “What is it?”

“Don’t think we can wait any longer, he can barely talk anymore.” He coaxes Niall’s mouth open gently, “let Daddy have a look, honey.” 

Liam crouches and frowns even deeper. “It can wait until I’m finished at work.” 

 

Niall sniffs, looking truly miserable at the prospect of having to go to school. Liam pats his head, and temporarily ignores the disapproving look Zayn’s piercing him with: “You’ll hold on for a few more hours, dad’ll pick you up right after school.” 

Zayn looks like he’s about to cut in, when Harry gives a demanding cry and the rattle of little fists and smudgy baby-spoons against wood can be heard. “Oh God.” 

 

Zayn catches the high chair just before Harry can topple over. He cradles the toddler and turns to switch of the boiling water cooker, quickly mixing together Liam’s usual morning tea, struggling to get the sugar glass from the upper cupboards. Harry babbles happily at his ear, pleased with the attention. 

 

“Can you ring Dr. Sheeran and say we’ll be over at two?” Liam’s rubbing at a spot of his shoes, simultaneously reaching for his cup of tea. Zayn steadies the rattling saucer and stops Liam’s elbow from dipping into the gooey mess Harry’s made. 

“Yes, but make sure you tell him about the symptoms we’ve discussed. And while you’re at it, mention Louis’ spots?”

“Boy’s hitting puberty, why shouldn’t he have spots?” Liam’s taking large, unhealthy gulps of his hot tea, the big watch on his wrist ticking away. But he reaches out anyway and pulls Zayn in by the waist, Harry sandwiched between them. “You worry too much.” His voice is almost a bit scolding, but the softness of his brown eyes gives him away. 

 

They share a lingering kiss, and Zayn feels a calmness settle in that only Liam can manage. 

 

Then Harry lets out a cry of protest and the phone rings, Liam curses at the time and steps into the flecks of Bio-Broth Harry’s distributed all over the floor. Doors bang and the phone is answered too late (it’s only Zayn’s mum, anyway), and Zayn spends the rest of the morning cleaning the floor boards – all the way from the kitchen to the entrance. 

 

Sometimes he wishes that they’d been more careful, gave protection and planning more thought. It’s been one and a half years since he quit his job and moved Harry’s crib into the master bedroom – he’s still somewhat in touch with former colleagues, gets invited to dinner parties he doesn’t go to (because Louis had that math exam on Monday, because Liam wanted the garage, their family project, done, because Niall had a fever and kept trying to sneak out of bed), but really, he finds himself chatting with other mums a lot more, these days. 

 

It’s a routine – at ten he takes Harry shopping, ticking off a list of things that are way, way too pricey, and that they wouldn’t ever have considered buying back when it was just the two of them in that tiny little apartment. At a quarter past eleven, they stop for the obligatory chat with Mrs. Stevenson (“Why, Mrs. Payne, I shop with my own car now – it’s just too hard on my back, all the carrying.”) that he secretly dreads and then proceed to the kitchen, where Harry’s allowed a soft cookie and Zayn wrecks his brain to think of something fresh and new, so that Louis’ won’t go filling his tummy with fast food and coke. 

 

He’s halfway through mashing the potatoes when Louis’ loud, booming voice can be heard in the yard – and yes, he’s brought back yet another girl. Zayn isn’t entirely sure whether these are just friends he brings back, or if there’s something more going on. 

 

He’s pleased when he realizes it’s the same girl from last week: “Eleanor, nice to see you again.” 

“Hello Mrs. Payne.” She smiles, all sweet and toothy, and Louis rolls his eyes and pulls her upstairs. 

“Lunch’s going to be ready any time now!” Zayn can hear them giggle in the hall and shakes his head, reaching to take away the soggy remains of Harry’s cookie. “Oookie!” he protests, while Zayn tries to get peas out of the freezer. 

 

The meal passes in relative silence, Eleanor and Louis exchanging secretive looks every other minute, Harry tapping his spoon against Zayn’s plate. He tries to converse a bit, asking about school and whether there’s any homework they should be working on. Louis only rolls his eyes under his fringe, which he’s refused to cut for yet another month now – it’s getting so long Zayn’s scared his vision will somehow be impacted negatively. 

 

“We’re going to my room.” Louis shoves the last bit of his food in his mouth. Eleanor’s already finished, thanking Zayn dutifully. “It’s fine – run along now.” He sighs, picks up a napkin and starts cleaning most of Harry’s face. “No carrots, babe?” He tries the airplane, the monster and the mega-dive, but the grinded orange mush just isn’t attracting Harry today: He stubbornly turns away, green eyes squinted defiantly. 

 

“Can’t wait until you hit puberty.” 

 

He taps Harry’s nose, and gets a small giggle for it. “You’ll be worse than Lou, won’t you?” Zayn pulls his youngest son out of the high chair and jostles him on his lap. “Won’t you, you little hooligan?” Harry screams in delight, little curls bouncing: “Mo-mmy” he crows, and Zayn can feel his heart doing a double take – Harry hasn’t talked much, he picks up words here and there, and he’s called Zayn before, but never so clearly. 

“Yeah, honey, Mommy’s here.” He gives the toddler a kiss on his forehead. For a moment he looks up, wanting to tell Liam, to share his momentary joy, just to be reminded that he’s probably still at work. 

 

Liam’s worked hard for the raise – so they could afford something bigger, with a garden and a room for each child, but it also means that he’s gone longer, every day, sometimes even on Saturdays. 

Plus today, he’s picking up Niall for the dentist. 

 

Zayn tidies the kitchen, reads a sports magazine and then falls asleep on the couch with Harry rolling all over his back. He’s always been one for sleeping, but with the kids and school and Liam’s work he’s forced his inner clock on half-past-six sharp every morning. “Tew-y” Harry’s saying in his ear, little hands patting the TV-remote against the back of his head, but Zayn’s too exhausted to reply. 

 

 

“Honey?” 

Zayn blinks, blurry shapes moving before his half-lidded eyes. He can hear Niall wrecking about in the kitchen and feels a big, warm hand caressing the nape of his neck. He sits up to wipe Harry’s drool from his ear – the sun’s already setting, their living room looking oddly dim. 

 

Liam’s got Harry attached to his hip, one hand still extended and resting on Zayn’s shoulder. “Alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah –“ Zayn stretches, “What did the doctor say?” 

“Fixed it in no time – he’s just not supposed to chew on pebble stones, no matter who dares him to!” Liam raises his voice at the last part of his sentence and Niall calls something back, mouth stuffed with left-overs from lunch. 

“Wait up, I’ll fix you something. Something green.” 

“Muuuum,” Niall appears at the door, blonde hair tousled, pouting through his mouthful of food. “Can we not order pizza? It’s Friday!”

“Your mum’s fixing you a salad.” Liam’s switched on the TV, much to Harry’s delight, flipping through the news stations. 

Niall keeps on pouting, then follows his mother into the kitchen: “please, mum, please? I’ll eat both.” 

The bowl in his hands is already empty and his knees look knobby, sticking out of his shorts that were supposed to be brown, but really, the grass stains and spills of juice and mud… More laundry to do. “Your dad said no, darling.” 

Niall sniffs and turns to rinse the bowl, just like Zayn’s always told him to. He looks awfully scrawny to be just eating salad and leftovers for dinner. 

 

“Oh, fine – go pick one. And order one for Louis, when you’re at it!” 

 

Niall does a little dance of victory and skips to the flyer of the local Italian. Thirty minutes later Liam answers the door with a bemused look on his face, accepting the extra chicken wings nonetheless. 

“I thought I said no pizza?” He asks Niall, mock-gruff, holding out the plus-sized boxes. 

“Mummy said okay. The other one’s for Lou!” Niall eyes his dad, “Can I go over to Bobby’s?” 

“Fine. Fine, but share! And say hello to Mr. Stevenson.” 

Niall grab’s his box and skids off, out of the front door. Zayn can hear him holding the doorbell extra-long – it’s his and Bobby’s secret code, or something. 

 

“Pizza, cool!” Louis’ down, Eleanor behind him, smiling shyly at Liam. “Mum, can I go out for a bit, just round the block?” 

“It’s already getting late.” Zayn eyes the pink sky outside skeptically. “Who are you meeting with, anyway?” 

“Just a few other lads, and I’ll walk El home. C’mon – I’ll take Harry, too!” 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“Haz’ pretty restless,” Liam strokes Zayn’s arm, eyes smiling, “Let them have a stroll.” 

Zayn just shrugs, snorting a bit – it’s clear Liam’s trying to get him back for the pizza. They do that sometimes, after fifteen years of marriage and three kids. 

“Thanks, thanks, thanks – come on, Harry.” Louis puts his little brother in his buggy, fumbling with the clasps. He used to take great care of his little brother, played a lot with Niall, too. He’s just been so busy with his friends lately, Zayn notes with a bit of remorse.

 

“Your mum and dad are so in love,” they hear Eleanor whisper loudly in the hallway and both grin at it. Louis just makes retching noises, Harry squawks, and then the door’s snapping shut. 

 

All of a sudden, the house is empty. 

 

“Come here, mummy.” 

Zayn grins and lets himself be pulled into a bear hug, Liam lifting him off his feet. “Hard day, huh?”

“It was fine – what d’you reckon Eleanor is?” 

“A sweet little girl?” 

“You know what I mean.” Zayn swats at Liam halfheartedly and hums into the kiss. Liam’s still wearing his office shirt, sleeves rolled up and buttons half-way undone. He’s wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt, and honestly, he hasn’t gone shopping for quite some time now. Not that he needs the new clothes, or anything, they could use the money for loads of other things – a new high chair, for instance. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Liam’s mouthing at his neck, big hands massaging his shoulders softly. 

“Nothing.” Zayn leans in. He’s happy, he really is. Even though he can still remember the days when he would stroll along in his tight black shirt, hair styled up, girls eyeing him up and down. Liam, at the bar, eyes glinting, mouth ajar. It seems ages ago. 

“Tell me,” Liam nuzzles his nose into the crook of Zayn’s neck. 

Zayn feels stupid, he can’t say: I feel unattractive, I want a career, and I want a social life that includes more than Mrs. Stevenson. “ ’S nothing.” 

 

And then he’s being scooped up, Liam gripping the back of his thighs, pressing him to his chest, making his way up the stairs. Zayn can’t help but laugh out loud. 

“Come on, mother of my children!” Liam’s throwing him onto their bed, kicking the door shut. He looks incredibly handsome, Zayn thinks, breathless all of a sudden. Just like when they first met. 

“I love you, Daddy.” He says, and it feels real, it feels giddy and perhaps a bit childish. They’ve really got no ground on being childish – with a house full of under-eighteens, but it’s nice. 

“Love you too.” And the Liam’s kissing him again, passionate, loving. His hands roam about, thumb rubbing roughly over Zayn’s hipbone. “Want you.” 

 

And then it’s breathless and tinted with slight guilt, because Niall could be coming home any second, knocking on their door. Zayn kicks off his jeans, tries to stay attached to Liam, his hard-on pressing. 

Then he’s spreading his legs, feeling the familiar pressure. “Condom.” He croaks out just when Liam’s about to push in. 

“Why?” he stops dead in his tracks, cock nudging against Zayn’s entrance, brows furrowed. “What’s the matter, Zayn?” 

“I, I just…” Zayn gasps for air, ignoring the burning in his stomach. “three’s enough.”

“You…” Liam sounds a bit bashed, “you don’t want any more of my children?” 

“No, no.” Zayn pushes himself up a bit, so he can look his husband in the eye, “Harry’s still so young, you see…” 

 

“Too bad,” and suddenly Liam’s pressing in, big and thick and leaking, “because I love the thought of knocking you up.” 

Zayn tries to bite back a moan but fails miserably, ankles resting on Liam’s broad shoulders, pleasure spiking through him like electricity. “And how you’re still so tight.” Liam’s voice is rough and his hands are gripping and demanding. 

His thrust are steady and practiced, hitting Zayn just right with every single one: “just think, a little girl with your eyes.” 

 

Zayn just groans, moving his hips for the friction. He hasn’t ever told Liam, but he’s kept track of the times they actually ended up reproducing… or at least, he tries hard to remember and count back on the days. 

With Louis it was the first Christmas he’d celebrated with Liam’s family, relationship going steady after three and a half years – he’d worn a bowtie from one of the presents and muffled his screams in the pillow. Niall, well, Zayn had slightly feared him to come out a depressed, grey baby, because he’d been conceived during one of their messier fights, with Louis at his Gran’s so they could scream at each other properly. Zayn had ended up with his cheek pressed against cold tiles and Liam’s angry breath down his neck. But really, Niall was the most cheerful little boy they could’ve asked for – blonde, too, like his aunts on his father’s side. 

And Harry, well with Harry Zayn can’t quite put the exact date, because they’d gone on vacation and the rented cabin had been surprisingly big and sound-proof. 

 

“You’re gorgeous.” Liam’s whispering against his cheek bone, hips grinding slowly, making Zayn mewl. It doesn’t take long for them to come, after that. Liam stays inside him for a full five minutes, demonstrating just how much he wants that little girl, and Zayn can’t help but smile. 

 

Then they hear Louis talking to Harry on the driveway, apparently retrieving something the toddler’s thrown out of the buggy, and Niall’s joining in, clambering over the fence and probably treading on Mrs. Stevenson’s rose bushes that never bloom, anyway. 

 

 

“C’mon then, mommy.”


End file.
